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 Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2012 5:43 pm
 X Close to midnight on a very windy night what: swoocing through windows makes horrifying first impression
He'd done a lot of silly things before, but this time it seemed, perhaps, that he'd taken it a bit too far. A little whimper left the orangeblood's mouth as he was swept along, wings fluttering desperately as he tried to keep control of himself in the air. It was a windy night, and the twin moons cast their separately colored glow on the wind-swept clouds high above. Pip had seen fit to make a journey across the plains, and only after reaching the edge of the city a rather violent updraft had snagged him, forcing him up far higher than he'd ever dared to go before.
In fact, he'd only looked at the city from above, landing delicately on the rooftops from time to time. Now he was at the mercy of the air current, and he was thankful as he finally managed to descend...only to be sent into a tumble as the air battered him roughly. Was a storm on its way? He didn't have much time to think before he was below the roof line of the city's skyscrapers, barely managing to dodge them. He wasn't able to do so for very long.
It was probably a miracle that he managed to hit the honey-combed cluster of windows belonging to a hivestem, rather than a wall or some other hard surface. Pip didn't just smack into them, either. The orangeblood was screaming as the glass shattered, and in he went, into whatever building, whosever's hive it happened to be. He hit the floor with a thud, and flailed meekly in a dazed state, cut and bleeding. His (apparently durable) wings had taken the collision amazingly well, and continued to flutter, beating softly against the floor as he tried to find his footing.
"Aaahh! Aah, oh gosh, oh geez..." he whimpered, his voice soft but full of panic. He was dizzy from the tumble, and now the panic was starting to set in. Whoever owned the place was liable to get really pissed. He could feel the wind blowing in through the broken windows, cooling over his blood-dampened skin. He'd ******** up their windows, and they could be pissed, they could come in and kill him right there. What an end, crashing through a window only to be culled for the destruction. He grasped at the floor, trying to get the world to stop spinning...
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Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:52 pm
Sometimes she wondered why she lives so high in the sky.
At times the blueblood had reassured herself, yes, this is a smart idea, nestled away from the probing eyes of the public that surrounded her. It was a fair escape since she preferred isolation while seeking safety in numbers, and after a time she grew accustomed to her high-rise dwelling.
Of course, there were times like this when she absolutely dreaded it. Hearing the howl of the wind sent a small shudder of panic down her spine. She knew the building would hold up, it always had, it always would be. Accidents wouldn't be allowed to happen in such a large city; not only that, but the prestige of her blood lent her the access to more accommodating hives, and while she was secluded in a less-than extravagant hivestem, it was still much more impressive compared to the ones lowerbloods were damned too.
Needless to say, the wind still put her already ragged nerves at an even greater unease. Something about her whole hive did that; the way it was always sickeningly clean, and yet not at the same time. The ever present layer of dust coating the the counter tops and chairs and racks upon racks of shoes-- the petite blueblood coughed and sniffled; damn dust allergies being forever present. Sometimes she wondered why she got stuck with the lusus she had.
Speaking of, she was starting to get frustrated with the large white fluffball. Her lusus did little to rest, always skittering around in a frenzy, tail swishing wherever she went with a cloud of dust in her wake. Sarcel herself was seated in a chair, muscles tensed at ever gust of air that whistled through her windows. A book in her hand was her only companion, All Quiet on the Alternian Front, ironic given the situation-- she only could wish it would be a quiet night, then at least the surroundings would be much more bearable.
But, as it turns out, things hardly go Sarcel's way. The recent events that took place with the mother grub still hung heavily in her mind, fresh wounds so to speak that would leave lasting scars. She wished she never went really, wished she didn't discover her freakish ability-- actually she wished it never happened in the first place. Sir wouldn't of lost a horn, then, she would never of met the grayblood, she would never of had to face anything.
But running away didn't prove much either, did it?
Scattered thoughts in her scatterbrained mind. Closing her book because of her inability to concentrate with the damn wind, she got up to return it back to it's place on her moderately sized bookshelf. A particularly sharp gust of wind happened about then, sending a rain of small debris crashing into her window. The skittish girl jumped slightly, followed by the not-so quiet thrum of paws coming from her lusus dashing by, only to vanish into another room as quickly as she came.
The next few moments were strangely silent. A blissful facade came over her atmosphere for that painfully small span of seconds, even though she still stood on edge. It was a strange intuition that hit her next; something just didn't seem righ--
CRASH
She couldn't even scream. Too startled on her own, her throat stayed clenched, no sound escaping. She might of jumped an exaggerated amount into the air, had it been possible. She might of run, should she had someplace to run too.
Instead she did what was starting to come second nature to her, reaching for the sawed-off shot-gun she usually had by her side.
Nope, we're not in the caverns anymore Sarce, there's no reason for that to be there.
But she couldn't leave the noise unattended. Besides, it not like any living thing could of come through the windows! She was story upon story high from the ground. It would take some incredibly tenacious individual to climb through those windows, and she doubted it could be the only tenacious individual she knew- Sir -since he was probably still at his hive doing god knows what.
The wind was strong. Maybe it just sent a large object into the windows. Yeah, that's it.
Resolved gained, the meek girl started towards where she heard the sound. Peeking out of her respiteblock, she made her ways out, cautious of whatever she might find despite the fact she brushed it off as something that had to be harmless, by which no danger to herself.
At least the now very present gusts of wind gave her mind enough thought that she ought to be on edge. Brief comfort compared to the scene she's suddenly presented with: Not only is it a troll on her floor, covered in bits of glass and blood, not only is it a troll, on the floor of her high rise hivestem, but it's a troll with wings.
Wings.
The orangeblood on her floor has winds sprouting from his back.
Hoofbeast-in-headlights look engaged, Sarcel found herself frozen, rooted to the ground where she stood. What even was she supposed to do in this situation? She couldn't very well push him out of the entrance he made, but was she supposed to help? Was she supposed to help this kid that just flew in through her window? And what was up with those things on his back?
Was that even a thing? There were trolls that could fly? Here she thought her latent ability to become invisible was a freakish rarity...
"O-O-Oh g--" the words hitch in her dry throat as she tries to find something to say or do. Completely conflicted with her emotions and thoughts, looking at the blood and glass; no doubt her lusus had heard the crash too. It was only a matter of time before the aggressive little s**t bounded over, panicked from the mess before them.
"A-Are..." she was still struggling to find something to say; what was someone even supposed to say in this situation? Couldn't ask if he was okay, because he wasn't. Couldn't ask how he even got here, because he has wings, idiot...
Instead she's backing off slightly, looking a little more then terrified of this winged stranger that just crashed into her hive, still at a complete and utter loss.
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Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2012 9:43 pm
Bad things like this didn't usually happen. In fact, it had been a really, really long time since anything of the sort had happened. Hadn't swoosedad warned him about going out on such blustery nights? It was a painful reminder, his lusus, who had elected to stay home that night in order to spruce up the garden they kept at the foot of his tree-hive. He was glad he had stayed behind, since the wind would have almost certainly carried the little buttermoose away to who knew where. Somewhere dangerous perhaps, or smushed against a window or building. Something awful like that. Hell, the wind hadn't even been that unruly until he'd reached the city limits. The thought of his lusus was causing a painful, panicky lump to rise in his throat. What if this was the end? What if he never saw him again ever?
The dizziness was starting to wear off, thankfully, but as he reached up to tear his goggles down some of his pumpkin-hued blood began to trickle down over one eye, and he mewled again, in a miserable way, squeezing it shut and curling against the floor for a moment. It felt like there were cuts everywhere, cuts on his face, his arms, even his ankles, which were almost always exposed. It was a simple blessing that he'd had his goggles on, otherwise, he bet, he'd have sliced his own eyes out. That thought, too, brought him closer to the verge of tears, and he could hear the occupant of the hive he'd infiltrated getting up, stammering in surprise...stammering. That was somewhat reassuring. At least no one was shouting, or snarling, or crying out angrily. No one was hitting or grabbing at him.
Pip sucked in a deep breath, and uncurled, pressing his hands against the floor and forcing himself up into a semi-seated position. Time to face whoever's window you've broken, you crazy little hive-smasher. His face finally upturned to reveal itself, one eye wide, the other eye stil squeezed shut as it tried to keep out the messy dribble of blood from the cut on his forehead. Blood that was the same color as the fluffed hair that framed his face. His wings had finally stilled, and now laid limp, slumped down around him slightly instead of being held back. His own gaze was frozen for a moment as it locked with Sarcel's, horror starting up anew. She was blue...he'd managed to find a blueblood's hive, of all things, to crash into.
Swoosedad had always said that blues were among the most brutal of landdwellers, always eager for violence, never hesitant to cull if they got the opportunity. His mouth gaped open for a moment, before he huddled down, eyes beginning to water a little. Crap, crap, no, please.
"I...I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! The wind...was really strong. I lost control! Please, I'm sorry..." he hiccuped, and bit his lip, trying to keep it together. His head and heart were starting to pound, and he was half tempted to try to abscond back through the window. Was all that stuff swoosedad said about bluebloods really true? The girl before him looked almost as freaked out as he felt, though, and he tried to move, reaching up subconsciously to brush a piece of glass off his arm.
He pulled his legs under himself very slowly when she began to back off so that he wouldn't have to continue supporting himself on his arms. The glass underneath his crackled and clinked softly, and he tried to avoid cutting himself more, carefully shifing the larger pieces away from himself. His gaze, however, never fell away from Sarcel's. Every movement was slow and deliberate, as if he thought that any sudden moves might freak her out even worse.
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Posted: Tue Jun 26, 2012 1:58 am
It really wasn't anything new, Sarcel being a scared skittish shell of a blueblood. The young girl froze after taking her small stab backwards; Sir would be furious with her. She was backing away from a lowblood again; one that had invaded her hive, no less! Hands forming tense fists, she became rooted to the ground once again, still frightened but also somewhat... determined.
Where or why there was determination was an enigma all in itself, but then when was the blueblood anything less than a mystery? She gulped again, wanting to speak out but also dreading it. She dreaded the other having to hear her dreaded stutter. He looked almost as freaked out as she felt, though, and if she tried to speak it might change his opinion on her subjective venerability.
At the very least, she did have to find some sort of truth in his words. The wind was incredibly strong; she could feel the fierce gusts even from where she stood thanks to the gaping hole in the window. Maybe it was because the highblood was more or less shocked because of the orange wings on his back. Trolls can't fly, they can't...
But he could. Flight was staring Sarcel straight in the face, and she had to admit it. It was a strange mix of terror and awe; someone destined to fly in the skies, it was a magical idea. Trolls dreamed about those kind of things. But then, there were trolls born under the sea, breathing with the scalebeasts. Why couldn't there be trolls that soared in the sky with the wingbeasts? It seemed totally possible in theory, and yet it was a difficult concept to grasp. Still, here was a kid with wings, on the floor of her hive.
Conflicting opinions and thoughts come up again. She realizes she's capable of helping the poor boy; she took medical training back in the caverns, but should she really help an individual that crashed into her hive? Was that really the thing to do? What would Sir do? Probably kick him right back into the skies... maybe. He was violent, yes, but he wouldn't be so quick to throw a troll out when they were already down, right? That would be dishonorable...
Or maybe she was completely wrong and mixing her own ideals in there. Oh well, having a personal opinion was a good thing, right? So long as it was the right one...
She was getting carried away again, attention back on the orangeblood, she tried to clear her mind of any apparent panic. She was fine, she was calm, she wasn't going to let fear get the better of her. Maybe she did come out of those caverns stronger; part of her wanted to think that, anyway. It was a pleasant thought; even though part of her wanted to run and hide, especially since she had the means to do so. That ability was nothing but a curse, a temptation to laugh at her. An ability that enabled her to do exactly what she shouldn't do-- hide from her problems. Before she could be caught, but it's arguably harder to catch the invisible girl, isn't it?
But on the other hand, he was injured. Covered in glass and his own pumpkin shade of blood. Why was she thinking so hard about this? One side said to push him away and another said to help... to help... Well if he was injured or permanently harmed from this encounter, then he'd be a burden on society, something Sir seemed to stress avoiding, and also stressed on her. It wasn't very fun, as she could recall, being the burden.
She'd help. It wouldn't be right if she didn't. She was a blueblood; she could get the window fixed very easily, it wouldn't be a problem.
So that was the decision.
"I-I-It's fi-fine..." even though it really wasn't. He broke her window, intruded for no reason... but then, the wind was strong...
But then why wasn't he more sensible about it?
"H-Here j-just... y-you're bleeding, ..." the blueblood takes a few hesitant steps towards the orangeblood, "C-Can you w-walk?"
She'd have to take him some other place if she wanted to even try to help him, anyway. The wind would do a fine job of keeping her from getting anything productive done at any sort of reasonable rate, anyway, but it would be difficult to move him into a room that wasn't being bombarded by wind should he not be able to after his crash. Not only that, but her lusus would probably have a fit if she saw this.
"I-I-I mean, I c-can help if... if y-you want I-I mean you're b-bl-bleeding a-and that's n-n-no good, b-but it's k-kind of w-w-windy......
She bites her lip too, fidgeting uncomfortably. She'd get better at this social thing someday.
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Posted: Tue Jun 26, 2012 11:33 pm
"I-I-It's fi-fine..."
Pip swallowed hard, and by then he couldn't keep the tears back. They rolled down his face, a pale orange, mixing with the blood that was already there, and he sorely hoped she wouldn't notice. Her stammered words were like a wave of relief washing over him even though he knew he wasn't out of the metaphorical woods just yet. Yes, he had indeed smashed her window, trespassed, and now there was a gigantic mess in whatever room they happened to be in now (though he couldn't bring himself to look around just yet). He couldn't fathom his luck, couldn't figure out why the blueblood standing a few feet away wasn't yelling at him or trying to kill him for the destruction he'd caused.
"I think so." he replied meekly. Now that he could see straight again, he was realizing that he wasn't all that badly hurt, just really shook up. None of the wounds felt substantial, and after a moment, he fluttered his wings, using them to help pull himself up into a standing position. It was almost a reflexive thing, really, and they only stilled once he'd found his footing, arms held away from his body to help keep himself balanced.
Help. She was offering to help him. Who had ever done that, aside from his own father? For a moment, one split second, the window had looked incredibly inviting. Never mind the violent winds, he was more than willing to throw himself out a window to avoid apprehension or death. But she was offering him a much better alternative, an unseasonably kind alternative for the caste she belonged to. He wobbled a little, and nodded, sniffling thickly and biting his tongue to keep himself from crying anymore.
"Yeah." he murmured, and at her mention of the very obvious, he realized that he had never seen so much of his own blood at one time. The shallow cuts on his face were still bleeding freely (as facial wounds tended to), and his arms were wet with it as well...he swayed woozily. "I'd like that a lot. You're so...that'sreallynice." he bit his lip, and tried to focus on her rather than himself.
The picture his father had painted of her caste, and the very few run-ins he'd had with other highbloods in the past, did not fit her at all. The thing he couldn't get over was how horrified she still looked, and he reached up to try to wipe away his tears, only to smear more blood across his face. "I'm real sorry for startling you. I can clean the mess, if you want." He tried to offer, and took a tentative step in her direction
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Posted: Thu Jun 28, 2012 6:02 pm
It probably was an incredibly lucky thing, yes, that it had been her window of all of the other possibilities. A far off thought humored the idea of what might of happened; someone seeing this orangeblood-- with wings, mind you-- crashed into their hive? It probably wouldn't of ended near as well.
Actually, had Sarce had her gun, she might just of scared him back out of the hole he made. He seemed skittish enough, and she did notice the tears on his face, even though she said nothing about it. She hated crying more then anything, so she wasn't about to point it out. Rather, the tears proved something else to her: sincerity. Granted, she wasn't happy about this encounter, but she wasn't going to let herself fall into anger or hostility either.
Then she'd be no better then Sir.
Instead, she watched while he pulled himself up with the help of his wings, eyes widening slightly in her state of half subdued panic. She simply couldn't get over the fact he had wings. Maybe it was because she never was one for fairy tales as a kid, never payed them any mind. Sure she heard of lore and dumb stories, but those were fake right? Well apparently they weren't, but still. She wondered if there were other trolls with wings too. Other ones out there, soaring around...
She wouldn't ask, it wasn't her place. Well actually it was in all technical terms, being a highblood and all, but prying was never a thing Sarcel did. If someone wanted to tell her something, they'd tell her on their own terms. Anyway, she would hate it if people tried to pry things from her, so she wasn't about to be a hypocrite.
Rather, she listens to his nervous words, looking a little confused when he trails off You're so..., but doesn't make any comments. Always a listener rather then the talker, she shakes her head at his offering. She might of taken him up on his suggestion, but with the current weather condition and his state she wasn't about to even consider it. Even if the cuts were somewhat minor, he had a lot of them, and he had a considerable amount of blood in places where blood should not be.
Besides, there wasn't time to clean up. She heard the quiet thrumming of paws. Her lusus must of caught wind of this; it would only be a matter of time before she made it here, panicking. It was hard to tell what she would do, but she didn't want to chance her attacking the orangeblood in fear of filth.
"M-M-Maybe l-later, y-you're hurt." nervously glancing around again, the next time she looks at the orangeblood he's moving towards her with a certain hesitation. Part of her wants to back off again, but she doesn't. She'd just have to face the situation and get over it. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she instead just goes back to nervously glancing around before making a nervous motion for him to follow, as she disappears into one of the many rooms of her hive.
Yes, it was probably a good thing she took that medical training during her time underground. Hopefully she had some things laying around; all she knew was that she'd have to get this kid somewhere chinchillamom couldn't reach him, less this catastrophic night get even worse.
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Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2012 12:19 am
Pip only barely noticed her increasingly surprised look as he pulled himself up. It made him feel self-conscious for a moment, and as he stood there finding his balance for that split second he realized again just how freaky and rare something like himself was. He'd known it for a long time, but it had been so long (months almost) since interacting so closely with another troll that it was a glaring reminder. Why was that? He'd always wondered why. Some trolls could swim under the sea, so why couldn't there be more in the sky, too? Not that he'd ever met any of the water trolls...the way his lusus talked about them, he didn't really want to.
It was actually really surprising to the Orangeblood when she didn't say a thing about his wings. Then again, the circumstances might have caused her to care a little more about everything else that had gone wrong, like all the glass, and the blood he was dripping everywhere. Sniffling, he took another little step, and then paused, barely hearing the tiny little sound of footsteps over the wind. It takes him a moment to register what it could possibly be, and he wonders immediately what kind of lusus she has. Hopefully not something that's going to leap into the room and tear him to shreds for intruding...
"Yes...alright." he murmured softly, and moved immediately when she beckoned for him to follow. He began to flutter his wings again, using them to be lighter on his feet, to avoid stepping on any more of the glass. He set down again once he was into the hallway, following behind her, but not too close.
Sniffling, he realized something with new panic; that she might have to touch him to fix his injuries. It was something that made him irrationally nervous, and he swallowed hard, reaching up to rub at his eyes. One of them was still soaked with blood, the other wet with his tears, both stinging and itching uncomfortably. He was scared still, there was no denying that...but she was going to help. That's what he repeated inwardly as he followed after the blueblood. She's going to help you, and everything will be okay.
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 3:04 pm
It was only natural for the blueblood to be surprised, after all. Even though it was more in part to the fact that a troll had well, crashed into her house as opposed to the fat it was an orangeblood that bore wings. Of course, under other circumstances Sarcel might of asked about them, shocked and surprised but... perhaps also understanding. Surely a troll with wings had a difficult time in the outside world, even when harboring such a 'gift'. She felt the same way with the manifestation that took a hold of her during the cave expedition; had she told anyone else she had the power of invisibility, they would of course see it as a gift, where as she saw it as a curse. To tell someone that you were capable of flight would probably invite a similar, if not much more rash reaction, where Sarcel there-in found a strong presence of sympathy.
Of course that could also be chalked up to the fact she silently felt varying levels of empathy for about every troll she came across. Pathetic was a fitting name, for finding the feelings and thoughts of others so worthwhile.
And it was those same alien obligations-- the feelings of empathy-- that drove her to the current task at hand. Another common thought sprung up like a leaf in bloom; realizing that because of the color she bore on her shirt meant she shouldn't be so lax, shouldn't be everything she is. A coward when she ought to be the aggressor; a tiny voice wishes maybe she was something less, something that didn't require the responsibility she had, something deemed fit for the girl who ran from her shadow. The thought is rooted up before it gets a chance to fester, because caving into such thoughts was what made her the coward she was.
Instead she tries to take a more optimistic view on the situation. Sure she might be out a window, but to the orangeblood she could deem a role such as a hero. Had it been some other hive, the boy might not of been so fortunate; she was helping, and it was helping that made her feel like something; useful, valuable, irreplaceable, important and needed, things that she clung too like a hungry parasite.
The room came up rather quick; even if it was large for a respiteblock, it was still small for a hive. She preferred it that way; everything condensed and close. Little nooks that made her feel safe and cozy. She'd wait for the orangeblood to step in before she shut the door and locked the lock with a faithful ker-chunk, which of course if questioned she would go on to explain that her lusus didn't take too kindly to visitors and she insisted on it for his own well being. It was true; for such a small rodentbeast, chinchillamother was quite ferocious when her order was disrupted. Somewhat unpredictable too, she didn't know if her lusus would attack the visitor or not, but she wasn't one to take chances.
She was the hero for once. The helper.
Needless to say, she surveyed the room with a quick glance before going to gather things from the shelves. It was a tiny room that she retreated too on occasion when she was out to avoid her lusus. It was one of the few rooms mostly devoid of dust, set up with a dinky table set, east wall lined with shelves that were full of things she could occupy her time with; books that weren't already present on the bookcase outside, a small husktop (perhaps one of the few things in this room that did collect dust) since she was bored of most of the games installed in it, probably a collection of shoes, among other things. Lucky for the two of them she did have a small supply of first aid items, if only because of the camp she attended during her stay in the caverns. It was a useful skill, so she thought, and found it smart to have a stash of antiseptic wipes and gauze and the like on stand by in case something did go awry (Which under her roof, so it was proved, things tended to do).
For as unorganized as she tries to be, the shelves are always in some semblance of order. Force of habit, she reasoned; it wasn't something that really bothered her so much anyway, as she never noticed, or perhaps it was that she didn't care to notice. Either way, it was hardly a problem, and after retrieving her supply of care-goods and setting them on the small petite table, she finally pulls out a chair- for the orangeblood- and then has a seat herself.
"P-Please, have a s-seat." she says in a quiet stutter, fumbling with a strip of gauze, "What's y-your name?".
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Posted: Sat Dec 29, 2012 2:16 am
Pip followed her closely as they rounded the corners through her hive, trying to blink back the faintness that was threatening to take over. He had to remind himself a million times that, yes, she was helping. She isn't going to kill you. She is the helper. It was still a lot to deal with, forcing himself to trust a complete stranger, one who now knew his secret. That part wasn't so bad, however. If he got out alive, it was probable that no one would believe a story about a winged troll from a single witness. It still made him paranoid, though. Of course he was already tempted to beg for her silence.
It was a mixture of relief and increased anxiety when they reached her respiteblock, or what he assumed must have been her respiteblock. Pip stepped inside hesitantly and looked around for a moment before the audible thunk of the lock made him flinch, the wings on his back quivering as he hugged himself. As much as he wanted to ask, he held his tongue and focused on looking around instead. If he weren't sliced up to hell, he might have been interested in her books, asked some questions, but he remained silent and watched as she gathered her supplies. How long had it been since he'd been in someone's company like this? He'd never even been inside another troll's hive before. Usually he could avoid most forms of personal contact.
"P-pip. Piperi. Pip is fine, though." He stammered a weak introduction as he lowered himself into the chair. Immediately he leaned into the table, some of his cuts still seeping blood. His forearms were orange-smeared, his face was still a blood-streaked mess, and his eyes were glued on her hands as she fumbled about.
"What about yours?" he asked in a whisper, jerking his arm away from the table when he realized he'd spilt blood on it. He looked almost embarrassed about it and folded his hands into his lap, fidgeting sluggishly, his face pale in the spots where blood had not run down. He almost sounded as if he might start to cry again, and he reached up to try and rub some of the blood from his eyes.
"I really am so sorry about this. I'll...I'll do whatever I can to return the favor." was added in a tremoring voice, turning wet eyes up to hers for a split second before looking down again.
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2013 11:14 am
Sarcel could sympathize with the obvious distrust and fear. Her first instinct was to run; to flee and hide like some sort of wounded animal, although the only thing wounded was her small floundering pride. Honestly, she could of just shoved him back out the window, could of just taken care of it just like that; was that what a highblood would do? Would they punish a lowblood on account of breaking and entering? It was obvious it was a mistake, but do highbloods really give others the time of day like that?
Her eyes drifted from the taut gauze in her hands back to his orange wings. It was increasingly hard to believe even still; it reminded her of when she was deep underground in that rag-tag team of herself and Sir and the greenblood— Pyruet— and the hemoanonymous blight, only they weren't there anymore and they weren't there then either; it was herself, her lonesome roaming through the winding tunnels with nothing more than the reverberating sounds of labored breaths and rough footsteps. It was back when she was attacked, thrown to the ground in shock, arms going to cover her face— she might of had a bit of pride there, remembering back, for she was defending as opposed to running— but the strike never came. No blood was ever drawn. She was as invisible to the world as she had always wished to be.
She could hardly believe it then, and she could hardly believe it even now. Her brow furrowed with a slight frustration as she trekked in thought; maybe the idea of wings wasn't so far off anyway. After all, since when did bluebloods get powers? Not very often, anyway.
"Sarcel." she said after a pause, briefly looking down at the gauze in her hands. She idly glances at the blood on the table without much thought until she's disrupted by the scratching noises from the locked door, she's here.
But she knows the door will hold back her lusus. For as wild and rambunctious and sometimes dangerous as the large fluffy beast could be, doors still managed to keep her at bay; an aforementioned white snout sticks under the doorway and snuffles around.
"Sarcel Ci-Cincil." she adds after a bit, wondering why it sounds odd to her ears when she realizes it's because she's grown used to the constant PATHETIC rumbling around her head. How long has it been since she saw Sir? Too long, too long; it's silly to be anything remotely close to worry when it's blatantly obvious he can take care of himself, but she things back to the falls and the horn and almost shudders.
Now's not the time to be lost to irrational anger though, no. She has someone here that needs help, whether or not it's something a 'highblood' should do. She only gets to work with a certain shy tenderness, not necessarily afraid of him, but fearful all the same. Of what? Perhaps she's nervous because he's so shaky, or perhaps it's because her anxiety is more prominent than she thought. Either way, there was a reason she was staying cooped up inside after the caverns, but she'd have to face the real world someday anyway. Maybe it was a good thing this chance encounter happened anyway.
"It...It's a-alright." she stutters, wind howling outside the door from the broken window. She was nobility, she could fix up the damages herself, "I-It was just a-an accident..."
And accidents happened often enough. Messes, tragedies, mistakes; she knew that all too well, and she'd learn to accept it. Accept it and move forward, "B-B-But maybe y-you shouldn't of... of b-been ffflying ar-around with this w-wind either... i-it seems s-s-sorta' dangerous."
She catches the teary stare for a moment, almost missing it as she tries (hoping she's remembering this right) to clean up his cuts. She's quite for a moment thereafter, listening to the sniffles and snuffling and loud wind outside and the raining of cloudbursts. Maybe a familiar friend was out there now, chasing the windstorm. Ah,
Friend.
"M-M-Maybe you'd like to b-be f-fr-friends?" she suddenly blurts out without much thought. A social wreck, but at least she was trying.
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Posted: Fri Feb 15, 2013 12:58 am
The silence didn't go unnoticed by the orangeblood, but perhaps part of him found it soothing, and he tried to let quiet atmosphere of her inner hive absorb into his own mind. He wasn't bothered by the short time she took to think to herself, though he could all but feel her eyes on his wings, knowing that questions might follow. If she'd ventured to ask, he might have seriously considered answering her, considering the situation...but what, really, was there to tell? The wings themselves were his secret, and that was out in the open now. She would do with that secret what she would, but he would not be at her mercy if he could help it...
No, he couldn't let that kind of thinking dominate his mind, not yet. When the silence was finally broken by the revelation of her name, he almost smiled...until the scratching came, and he blinked, his eyes darting to the door. Her lusus. His mouth opened as if to say something, but she repeated her named, adding the surname, and he felt his heart rate spike again. How improper of him to leave out his own. Typical lowblooded bad manners, he hoped she didn't look down on him too badly for the mistake. Still, it got a very brief smile out of him as he repeated it. "Sarcel Cincil." He wanted to say that it was a pleasure, but he only barely managed the name in a soft whisper, his tone almost fond, tinged with gratitude. This was the name of his savior, after all. "I'm happy to meet you, but I wish it could have been in a...less disastrous way."
He'd repeated himself several times now, but it was all too tempting to say sorry over and over. Pip was horribly sorry, that much was true, but he stayed his tongue, and nodded as she told him for at least the third time that it was indeed alright, only an accident. For now, he would have to convince himself that it was true...well, it was, wasn't it? He would find some way to pay her back in the future. The little orangeblood began to nod, but stopped at her suggestion, his mouth opening as he stuttered wordlessly for a moment. Oh, she had him there. "W-well...it wasn't as bad when I started out, but, those updrafts catch you when you least expect it, sometimes..." he managed to say, lamely defending himself. It hadn't been so bad when he'd still been out on the plains...hell, the wind could be downright fun out in the wide open spaces outside the city limits. He had taken a bad risk, though, one that had nearly cost him everything.
Pip wouldn't have long to worry about his excuse, because as she reached across to tend to his wounds his throat tightened up and his body seemed to tense for a moment. Ahh, she was touching, so close, invading his personal space. He tried to tell her that he had invited her there. It was almost an irrational fear, because he knew she wasn't going to hurt him. He nearly shut his eyes as he inwardly talked himself down into a more relaxed state, only to have them open again at her question, surprised.
"Y...y-yes. I think I would like that a lot." He stammered, and smiled again, not seeming to care about how abrupt the question was. He hadn't had a new one of those in ages, had he? Not one that was another troll, anyway. Sure there were the little birds and animals that lived in his tree, but as sad as he was to admit it they weren't the most reliable of companions.
"You're really g-good at this. Can I have some of that...for my face?" It was one of the spots she hadn't got to yet, but he was itching to wipe the blood away. What had oozed out already was starting to get sticky, and it felt gross. Her inquiry toward friendship had seemed to give him the courage to speak up, though his voice was as soft as ever.
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 9:19 am
She almost could of smiled when he repeated her name, finding it almost something of a novelty. Yes, it was true, she really had grown used to the bark of Pathetic. Her own name sounded strange, but it was nice, too. Nice to be spoken and heard; she felt somewhat content, a little more relaxed. Friends, yes, she enjoyed the prospect of friends a great deal; this strange new concept of support and everything else. It was nice, it made her happy, and that was something she had come to appreciate a great deal. Maybe she should make more of an effort instead of leaving such a thing up in the air to chance things like this. Maybe...
When he apologized again, Sarcel actually does smile a little. Maybe it was a little disastrous, but at the same time... wasn't is sort of funny? What were the chances anyway? A winged troll crashing into her hive? It was almost sort of surreal. She wondered where he was from and where he lived and how did he even hide those? Did he just dwell as a recluse from society, or did he have other means, or...?
She wouldn't bombard him with questions, not now. It would be rude and there were bigger and better things to accomplish and get to, so she just quietly listened instead. Obviously she wouldn't understand his talk about updrafts; she's never flown let alone been airborne, but she could imagine how bad the unexpected gusts would be. If there was anything she disliked a great deal, it was the unexpected. She sought safety in stability; it would be hard to just cast yourself freely to something that could completely crush you down— she almost shuddered at the thought— but there was an appeal, too. Sometimes it was the best thing in the world to just take of and run, eyes closed, letting her feet and legs take her where ever they wanted with nothing more than the feeling of pavement beneath her and the breeze in her messy locks. Another serious of snuffling and scratching from behind the door broke her from her thoughts, impatient creature she thought, almost bitterly.
Boy, she was glad when he agreed to her outright offering of friendship. Her hands stilled and her eyes brightened with a certain spark. She wondered what Sir would say if he knew about her friends; especially Pip, because of his wings... it would be better if they didn't meet. It would be better if no one met Sir, actually, but that was an awful line of thinking that she quickly tossed away. The spark faded.
"O-Oh, sure." she agreed, pushing over some of the medical supplies so that he could help himself too. She looked bashful at the compliment, quietly adding "I-I guess I had to get pretty g-good at it..."
She wouldn't indulge him in the details.
...Or maybe she would.
"Y-Y'know, I just learned so I-I could help out my o-other friends... er... I-I guess friends i-isn't the r-right way to put it.," she grappled with herself mentally, the snuffling a faraway thought now, "B-But I guess i-it is pretty useful, huh? I like b-being able t-to help a-anyway..."
She shook her head; was she really so much of a help then? She had to believe she was. In a disjointed thought, she added "...B-But anyway, it is n-nice to meet you t-too, Pip."
Yes, nevermind the caverns. She had a guest— friend, now— and she quite enjoyed the novelty of that idea very much. No need to get tossed away by the uncertainty of her feelings. She was perfectly fine, her and her new friend. She smiled.
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Posted: Sat Mar 02, 2013 10:56 pm
Sarcel's reaction to his acceptance of her request for friendship quelled any worry that it was some sort of trick. He'd immediately felt a little uneasy about saying yes so quickly, but it wasn't as if she were asking for some sort of deathly favor. She obviously wasn't like other bluebloods, either...or other trolls, for that matter. There was a succinct lack of dominance and aggression, and that really helped to calm his nerves. Most bluebloods seemed quick to pounce on those of lower castes, bossing them about in whatever ways they saw fit. It just went to prove that one shouldn't go making generalizations about blood colors and status, he guessed. He couldn't help but wonder why she seemed to nervous, but similar to Sarcel, he felt that it wasn't yet the appropriate time to be asking such personal questions.
"Thank you." He said as he reached for the gauze, his eyes flickering to the little snout snuffling beneath the door again as he took some of the fabric and carefully used it to wipe the blood from around his eye. He was secretly glad that she wasn't making any more comments about flying, because he was already embarrassed and mad at himself for taking such insane risks. Instead, he listened to her explain, tilting his head. It was well known that Alternia had some pretty amazing and advanced medical technology, but it seemed that such devices were geared more toward the military. Of course some highbloods had access to such gadgets, but poorer trolls got the short end of the stick when it came to health issues and 'doctors' were all but unheard of. "It's really useful. I probably would have bled to death if it weren't for you." He mused in an unintentionally melodramatic manner. Really, he was still pretty terrified, because he'd never seen such a huge amount of his own blood in one sitting. He wanted to ask what she meant about her so-called friends, but held back.
"Yes." He returned her smile again, almost completely relaxed and reassured that she wasn't secretly enraged or planning on hurting or killing him. After a short pause, and a continued effort in wiping the blood from his face, he cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward the door again. "Is that your lusus? I hope it isn't too upset..." He felt the need to strike up conversation, but immediately felt stupid for doing so. Pip would have been happy to remain in contemplative silence with his new blueblood friend, but he was similarly awkward, and a little curious besides. Did she have a small lusus too? He turned his head to watch as it scrabbled with its little paws, rather hoping that it didn't have the means to break into the room. Even worse than the cruelty of other trolls was the wrath of a lusus bent on protecting its charge...
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Posted: Sat Apr 27, 2013 7:15 pm
It was something that set her apart from the majority of her caste; she had an innate urge to please anybody because acceptance was paramount. Sarcel found safety in acceptance, though she only recently adopted the notion of pursuing friendships out of such basic feelings. As it were, it was quite nice to be surrounded with trolls she could mutually trust, and above all to be treated with mutual respect. She'd get better about demanding respect, someday.
She had more pressing things to pay attention to, in the present, "I-I don't think you wo-would've bled t-to death," she said, somewhat amused, "I mean, y-you were pretty sc-scuffed up, but no-none of these cuts s-seem that deep..."
Besides, she'd seen far more blood in one sitting before than she had on this specific night. Of course, Sir was a bigger troll and could probably afford to lose more blood and had a freakish tenacity on top of it. Still, Sarcel more or less put the blame on shock; at least, she'd be shocked if she (somehow) crashed into a window, especially if it belonged to a highblood. She knew very well that members of her caste were far more ruthless than her, and she still wasn't sure how she felt about it. Part of her wanted to be a civil voice of reason, but another darker part of her wished she could tap into that raw aggression. At the end of the day, she supposed it was better to have as much control as she did rather than none at all; it would be nice to have the backbone to snap back at insubordination like Sir did, but she also didn't want to transform into a monster.
The snuffling and scratching dragged Sarcel back to the real world, as did Pip's question. Her lusus. Her eyes had drifted over to the door, hearing the lock strain slightly as little paws scrabbled under the door frame. She crinkled her nose a little in what could almost be a muted sneer. She knew chinchillamom was probably distressed over the broken window, and probably pretty curious about the smell of a stranger and a strangers blood. She wasn't the most dangerous lusus, but she still maintained a neurotic ferocity that definitely made her capable of harming others. She had to be good at that, considering her charge wasn't the most apt for defending herself, and Sarcel had obviously made it this far somehow.
"She'll b-be fine," Sarcel determines, "S-She's just a l-little... obsessive. S-She wouldn't h-hurt you th-though, I wouldn't l-let her."
Sarcel paused for a moment, "...m-most she'd do i-is dust y-you off constantly, sh-she's kind of a ne-neat freak, I guess," admitting the fact made the girl laugh a little, although it trailed off fairly quickly, "W-What about your lusus? I-If you don't m-mind me as-asking..."
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2013 9:17 pm
"Yes....you're probably right." he agreed after a moment, chuckling anxiously. Her explanation made him realize that none of the cuts really were that bad, and for that he was thankful. Nevertheless, it was good to have them bandaged up, covered and protected from any kind of sickness or infection that might have otherwise tainted him. As Pip became more relaxed, his posture eased up a little bit, he contented himself with looking around a little more, his wings twitching every so often, as they had the tendency to do. Once again, her politeness struck him, though he tried not to let it show. Anyone else might have been all over him now, or asking questions about his wings. He probably wouldn't mind, now, if she decided to, but it was reassuring not to be treated like a freak.
He couldn't help but laugh again at the explanation provided for her lusus, finding it amusing. It must have been a small little thing if it was able to get its nose so far under the door, and Pip felt immediately curious. She had a smaller lusus, just like he did. Her question took him be surprise, and it felt as if she'd been reading his mind. He looked up through wide eyes, and offered a shy smile.
"No, I don't at all. My lusus is small, maybe even smaller than yours, by the sound of it." He said, turning his head to watch the door again. "He has wings, like mine." He fluttered his own for a moment, as if to emphasize his words. "And antlers, and six legs... and a long tongue that he uses to sip from the flowers." Pip looked thoughtful as he tried to describe Swoosedad. "Think of a tiny, winged antlerbeast, and that's my lusus. Thank goodness I didn't decide to bring him along tonight..." Pip's smile faded a bit as he tried not to imagine how horribly the crash might have affected Swoosedad. Probably fatally. It made him shudder to think about.
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